Black Page 6

  “You saw him drink the water?” Michal demanded.

  “Yes, he definitely drank the water.”

  “Hmm.”

  Tom waited for him to explain his reaction, but the creature just waved him on. “Go ahead. What then?”

  “Then I saw you” —he looked at Gabil—“and I ran.”

  “That’s all? Nothing more?”

  “No. Except my dreams. I remember my dreams.”

  They waited expectantly.

  “You want to know my dreams?”

  “Yes,” Michal said.

  “Well, they make no sense. Completely different from this. Crazy stuff.”

  “Well then. Tell us this crazy stuff.”

  Denver. His sister, Kara. The mob. A fully formed world with amazing detail. He told the creatures the gist of it all in a long run-on sentence, but he felt self-conscious telling them his dreams, no matter how vivid they had seemed. Why would they want to know his dreams anyway? The creatures looked at him, unblinking, absorbing his brief tale without reacting.

  They and the colored forest behind them were perfectly normal. He just couldn’t remember them.

  “That’s all?” Michal asked when he’d finished.

  “Mostly.”

  “I didn’t think anyone but the wise ones knew the histories so vividly,” Gabil said.

  “What histories?”

  “You don’t know what the histories are?” Michal asked. “You’re speaking about them as if you know them well enough.”

  “You mean my dreams of Denver are real?”

  “Heavens no.” Michal waddled in the direction the woman had run, then turned back. “Not your running about with men in hot pursuit anyway. That’s certainly not real, at least. But the histories of ancient Earth are real. Yes, of course they are. Everyone knows about them.” He paused and looked at Thomas with skepticism. “You honestly don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  Tom blinked and looked at the colored forest. The tree trunks glowed. So very foreign, yet so familiar.

  “No,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I just can’t seem to think straight.”

  “Well, you seem to be thinking quite straight when it comes to the histories. They’re an oral tradition, passed on in each of the villages by the storytellers. Denver, New York—everything you dreamed about is taken from the histories.”

  Gabil hopped sideways like a bird. “The histories!”

  Michal cast a side glance at the other as if impatient. “My dear friend, I do believe you have a classic case of amnesia, though I can’t understand why the water didn’t heal that as well. The black forest has sent you into a state of shock—no surprise there. Now you’re dreaming that you live in a world You’ve fabricated and are being chased by men with ill intent. Your mind has created a detailed dream using what you know about the histories. Fascinating.”

  “Fascinating!” Gabil said.

  Another glance from Michal.

  “But if I lost my memory, why would I remember the histories?” Thomas objected. “It’s almost as if I know more about my dreams than I do about . . . you.”

  “As I said, amnesia,” Michal explained. “The mind is an amazing thing, isn’t it? Selective memory loss. It seems you can remember only certain things, like the histories. You’re hallucinating. You’re dreaming of the histories. Reasonable enough. I’m sure the condition will pass. As I said, You’ve been through quite a shock, not to mention the knock to your head.”

  Made sense. “Just a dream. Hallucinations because I’ve knocked my head senseless.”

  “In my estimation,” Michal said.

  “That means there was an ancient Earth? One that no longer exists? The one I’m dreaming about?”

  The Roush frowned. “Not quite, but close enough. Some call it ancient Earth, but it could also be called other Earth. Either way, this is Earth.”

  “And what’s the difference between this Earth and the one I dream about?”

  “If I were to characterize it in a few words? In the other place, the forces of good and evil could not be seen. Only their effects. But here, both good and evil are more . . . intimate. As you experienced with the black bats. An incomplete differentiation, but simple enough, wouldn’t you say, Gabil?”

  “I would say, simple enough.”

  “Well then, there you have it.”

  The explanation didn’t seem quite so simple to Tom, but he let it suffice. “And what happened to ancient Earth?” he asked.

  “Oh dear, now you ask too much,” Michal said, turning. “That story is not so simple. We would have to start with the great virus at the beginning of the twenty-first century—”

  “The French,” Gabil cut in. “The Raison Strain.”

  “Not really the French,” Michal said. “A Frenchman, yes, but you can’t say it was . . . never mind. They thought it was a good thing, a vaccine, but it mutated under intense heat and became a virus. The whole business ravaged the entire population of Earth in a matter of three short weeks—”

  “Less than three,” Gabil inserted. “Less than three weeks.”

  “—and opened the door to the Deception.”

  “The Great Deception,” Gabil said.

  “Yes, the Great Deception.” Michal gave his friend a let-me-tell-the-story look. “From there we would have to move on to the time of the tribulations and wars. It would take a full day to tell you how other Earth—ancient Earth—saw the end. Clearly you don’t know all of the histories, do you?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Perhaps your mind has inserted itself at a particular point and is stuck there. The mind, a wonderfully tricky thing, you know?”

  Tom nodded.

  “But how do I know this isn’t the dream?” he asked.

  They both blinked.

  “I mean, isn’t it possible? In the Denver place I have a sister and a history, and things are really happening. Here I can’t remember a thing.”

  “Clearly you have amnesia,” Michal said. “You don’t think my easily excited friend here and I are real? That isn’t grass under your feet, or oxygen passing through your lungs?”

  “I’m not saying that . . .”

  “You’ve lost your memory, Thomas Hunter, if that’s indeed your real name. I would guess it’s the name from your dreams—they used double names in ancient Earth. But it’ll do until we can figure out who you really are.”

  “We can see you,” chirped Gabil. “You’re no dream, Thomas!”

  “So you really can’t remember anything about this place?” Michal asked. “The lake, the Shataiki? Us?”

  “No, I can’t .I really can’t .”

  Michal sighed. “Well, then I suppose we’ll have to fill you in. But where to start?”

  “With us,” Gabil, the shorter one, said. “We are mighty warriors with frightening strength.” He strutted to Tom’s right on his short, spindly legs, like a furry Easter egg with wings. A huge white baby chick. Tweety on steroids. “You saw how I sent the black bats flying for cover! I have a thousand stories that I could—”

  “We are Roush,” Michal interrupted.

  “Yes, of course,” Gabil said. “Roush. Mighty warriors.”

  “Some of us are evidently mightier warriors than others,” Michal said with a wink.

  “Mighty, mighty warriors,” said Gabil.

  “Servants of Elyon. And you, of course, are a man. We are on Earth. You know none of this? It seems quite elementary.”

  “What about the man who drank the water?” Tom asked. “Bill.”

  “Bill was no man. If he was a man and he drank the forbidden water, we would probably all be dead by now. He was a figment of your imagination, formed by the Shataiki to lure you to the water. Surely you remem-ber the forbidden water.”

  Tom paced and shook his head. “I’m telling you, I don’t know anything! I don’t know what water is forbidden, or what water is drinkable, or who these Shataiki bats are, or who the woman was.” He stopped. “Or wh
at she meant when she said she’s chosen me.”

  “Forgive me. It’s not that I doubt you can’t remember anything; it’s just very strange to talk to someone who’s lost his memory. I am what they call a wise one—the only wise one in this part of the forest. I have perfect memory. Dear, dear. This is going to be interesting, isn’t it? Rachelle has chosen a man with no memory.”

  Gabil smiled wide. “How romantic!”

  Romantic?

  “Gabil finds nearly everything romantic. He secretly wants to be a man. Or perhaps a woman, I think.”

  The smaller Roush didn’t argue.

  “At any rate, I suppose we should start with the very basics then. Follow me.” Michal headed toward the sound of the rushing water. “Come, come.”

  Tom followed. The thick carpet of grass silenced his footfalls. It didn’t thin out under the trees but ran heavy and lush right through. Violet and lavender flowers with petals the size of his hand stood knee-high, scattered about the forest floor. No debris or dead branches littered the ground, making walking surprisingly easy for the two Roush hopping ahead of him.

  Tom lifted his eyes to the tall trees shining their soft colors about him. Most seemed to glow with one predominant color, like cyan or magenta or yellow, accented by the other colors of the rainbow. How could the trees glow? It was as if they were powered by some massive underground generator that powered fluorescent chemicals in large tubes made to look like trees. No, that was technology from ancient Earth.

  He ran his hand gently across the surface of a large ruby tree with a purple hue, surprised at how smooth it was, as if it had no bark at all. He took in the tree’s full height. Breathtaking.

  Michal cleared his throat and Tom jerked his hand from the tree.

  “Just ahead,” the Roush said.

  “Just a moment more,” Gabil piped in.

  They exited the forest less than fifty yards from the meadow, on the banks of the river. The white bridge he’d stumbled over spanned flowing water. On the far side, the black forest. Tall trees lined the bank as far as he could see in either direction. Behind the trees, deep, dark shadows. The memory of them sent a wave of nausea through Tom’s gut.

  Not a black bat in sight.

  Michal stopped and faced him. He might not be the more excitable of the two Roush, but at the moment he was eager enough to take on the role of teacher. He stretched one wing toward the black forest and spoke with authority.

  “That is the black forest. Do you remember it?”

  “Of course. I was in it, remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember that you were in it. I’m not the one with the memory problem. I was just double-checking so as to give us a common point of reference.”

  “The black forest is the place where the Shataiki live!” Gabil said.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m telling the story here,” Michal said.

  “Of course I don’t mind.”

  “Now. This river you see runs around the whole planet. It separates the green forest from the black forest.” He absently flipped his wing in the direction of the far bank. “That’s the black forest. The only way into the black forest from this side is over one of three Crossings.” He pointed to the white bridge. “The river runs too fast to swim, you see? No one would dare attempt to cross except over one of the bridges. Do you follow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And you can remember what I just told you, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Your memory was wiped clean, but it seems to be working with any new data. Now.” He paced and stroked his chin with delicate fingers on the underside of his right wing. “There are many other men, women, and children in many villages throughout the green forest. Over a million now live on Earth. You likely stumbled into the black forest over one of the other two Crossings on the far side and then were chased here by the Shataiki.”

  “How do you know I don’t come from nearby?”

  “Because, as the wise one given charge over this section of the forest, I would know you. I don’t .”

  “And I am the mighty warrior who led you from the black forest,” Gabil said.

  “Yes, and Gabil is the mighty warrior who cavorts with Tanis in all kinds of imagined battles.”

  “Tanis? Who’s Tanis?” Tom asked.

  Michal sighed. “Tanis is the firstborn of all men. You will meet him. He lives in the village. Now, Elyon, who created everything you see and all creatures, has touched all of the water. You see the green color of the river? That is the color of Elyon. It’s why your eyes are green. It’s also why your body was healed the moment the water touched it.”

  “You poured water on me?”

  “No, not I—”

  “Rachelle!” Gabil blurted out.

  “Rachelle poured the water over you. Trust me, it’s not the first time You’ve touched his water.” Michal’s cheeks bunched into a soft smile. “But we’ll get—”

  “Rachelle has chosen you—”

  “Gabil! Please!”

  “Yes, of course.” The smaller Roush didn’t seem at all put off by Michal’s chiding.

  Michal went on. “As I was saying, we’ll get to the Great Romance later. Now, the black forest is where evil is confined. You see, good” —he pointed to the green forest—“and evil.” He pointed to the black forest. “No one is permitted to drink the water in the black forest. If they do, the Shataiki will be released to have their way with the colored forest. It would be a slaughter.”

  “The water in the black forest is evil?” Thomas asked. “I touched it—”

  “Not evil. Not any more evil than the colored trees are good. Evil and good reside in the heart, not in trees and water. But by custom, water is given as an invitation. Elyon invites with water. The black Shataiki invite with their water.”

  “And Rachelle invited you with water,” Gabil said.

  “Yes. In a moment, Gabil,” Michal said. But the more stately Roush couldn’t hide a slight smile. “For many years, the people have agreed not to cross the river as a matter of precaution. Very wise, if you ask me.” The Roush paused and looked about. “That is the heart of it. There are a thousand other details, but hopefully they will return to you in short order.”

  “Except for the Great Romance,” Gabil said. “And Rachelle.”

  “Except for the Great Romance, which I will let Gabil tell you about, since he’s so eager.”

  Gabil didn’t miss a beat. “She’s chosen you, Thomas! Rachelle has. It is her choice and now it’s yours. You will pursue her and woo her and win her as only you can.” He grinned delightedly.

  Tom waited for Gabil to continue. The creature just kept grinning.

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I don’t see the significance. I don’t even know her.”

  “Even more delicious! It’s a wonderful twist! The point is, you don’t bear the mark on your forehead, so you are eligible for any woman. You will fall madly in love and be united!”

  “This is crazy! I hardly know who I am—romance is the farthest thing from my mind. For all I know, I’m in love with another woman in my own village.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be the case. You would bear another mark.”

  Surely they didn’t expect him to pursue this woman out of obligation. “I still have to choose her, right? But I can’t .Not in this condition. I don’t even know if I’ll like her.”

  The two Roush stared, stupefied.

  “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Michal said. “It’s not a matter of liking. Of course you’ll like her. It is your choice, otherwise it wouldn’t be choosing. But—and you must trust me on this—your kind abound in love. He made you that way. Like himself. You would love any woman who chooses you. And any woman you choose would choose you. It’s the way it is.”

  “What if I don’t feel that way?”

  “She’s perfect!” Gabil said. “They all are. You will feel that way, Thomas. You will!”

  “We’re from different vil
lages. She would just go away with me?”

  Michal raised his eyebrow. “Minor details. I can see this memory loss could be a problem. Now we really should be leaving. It will be slow on foot, and we have quite a road before us.” He turned to his friend. “Gabil, you may fly, and I will stay with Thomas Hunter.”

  “We must go,” Gabil said. He unfurled his wings and leaped into the air. Tom watched in amazement as the white furry’s body lifted gracefully from the earth. A puff of air from the Roush’s thin wings lifted the hair from his forehead.

  Tom stared at the magnificent forest and hesitated. Michal looked back at him patiently from the tree line. “Shall we go?” He turned back to the forest. Tom took a deep breath and stepped after the Roush without a word.

  They proceeded through the colored forest for ten minutes in silence. The sum of it was that he lived here, somewhere, perhaps far away, but in this wonderful, surreal place. Surely when he saw his friends, his village, his . . . whatever else was his, his memory would be sparked.

  “How long will it take to return me to my people?” Tom asked.

  “These are all your people. What village you live in isn’t terribly significant.”

  “Okay, but how long before I find my own family?”

  “Depends,” Michal said. “News is a bit slow and the distances are great. It could take a few days. Maybe even a week.”

  “A week! What will I do?”

  The Roush pulled up and stopped. “What will you do? Are your ears not working as well? You’ve been chosen!” He shook his head and continued. “Dear, dear. I can see this memory loss is quite impossible. Let me give you some advice, Thomas Hunter. Until your memory returns, follow the others. This confusion of yours is disconcerting.”

  “I can’t pretend. If I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t —”

  “If you follow the others, perhaps everything will come back to you. At the very least, follow Rachelle.”

  “You want me to pretend to be in love with her?”

  “You will be in love with her! You just don’t remember how it all works. If you were to meet your mother but didn’t remember her, would you stop loving her? No! You would assume you loved her and thereby love her.”